Word Pictures From The Week
The hotel is back to normal, except that it’s “Dinah Shore Weekend” in Palm Springs, which means the place is overrun with crazy drunken lesbians, many of whom bear a close resemblance to an Abrams tank, while a few others are goddesses in flesh - most are right in between somewhere.
So, maybe the word “normal” is stretching it a bit.
RhodesTer encountered a certain number of the goddess-type swimming nude in the hotel pool at three in the morning, and sent them to their rooms. Later, a few others were discovered to be running nude in the hallway on the third level.
RhodesTer has decided that night duty during the Palm Springs season isn’t so bad after all and, as he related this sentiment to the night auditor, David, who’s been employed at the hotel for several years, David said, “just wait a few weeks until The White Party hits town.”
The White Party consists of thousands of gay dudes, with nigh a lesbian to be had – many of whom ALSO tend to run up and down the halls nude and go for moonlight swims sans clothing.
RhodesTer is now volunteering for day duty, but it can wait until Monday.
The hotel is also hosting a huge banquet and Palm Springs weekend for the sweet little old ladies of the VFW, most of whom are 70+ years of age.
As they shuffle down the halls with walkers and canes, the semi-nude crazy drunken lesbians zip by them, going in the opposite direction.
As RhodesTer wonders why in the heck the people in the sales office who book these groups don’t bother to check with each other on the DATES first, he keeps an eye out for the late Rod Serling, who’s bound to show up at any minute and stand in front of the camera, saying, “Two opposing worlds, put together in one hotel for the weekend.. nobody can escape and, as the worlds collide, one lone man is sent to oversee the interaction of the two.. THIS is the TWILIGHT ZONE.”
The black guy on the bus was an eclectic sort, wearing gunny sacks fashioned into pants, and beads everywhere – in his hair, all over his clothes and tied to his fingers. He was skinny, and seemed nice – RhodesTer gave him directions, starting with which stop to disembark at and then which bus to catch to go where he was going.
The black guy at the deli in Ralph’s supermarket a few nights later was skinny, and had beads in his hair, beads in his clothing and beads tied to his fingers.
He didn’t have gunny sack pants, but his pants were made from some kind of strange, eclectic material. His dreads frolicked over his forehead, just as they’d done when he was on the bus.
RhodesTer asked him if he’d found his destination okay a few days ago. “What do you mean?” asked the bewildered, skinny, beaded and dreaded, eclectic black dude.
“I mean when I gave you directions on the bus the other day, did you find your way okay?” replied RhodesTer.
“Man, I don’t ride no damn public buses,” the skinny, black, eclectic, beaded and dreaded dude snarled, before paying for his purchase and storming out of the store.
His curiosity peaked, RhodesTer walked to the store window and observed the black, beaded and dreaded, eclectic skinny dude getting into a Maserati and zooming away.
RhodesTer admits that if you’ve seen ONE skinny, dreaded and beaded, eclectic black dude in strange clothing, you’ve seen them ALL.
Speaking of Ralph’s supermarket, that tiny little Italian man who bags groceries there is as sweet as can be.
His name is Guilano, or Guimo, or Guliamo, or something, and heees eeenglish eeess notta sooo gud! and he wears a pointy ski cap ALL OF THE TIME even though he’s in Palm Springs and skis are illegal here.
Guidiamo stands about five foot nothing, and he zips from one customer to the next, happily bagging their newly acquired belongings with a big old smile, while nodding and saying “Arrivederci!” as they depart.
RhodesTer spoke with him while departing the store, as Guido was sitting out front on a break, soaking in the sunshine. Nothing of vast importance was said, beyond stilted pleasantries exchanged with a bit of effort on the part of both parties, but RhodesTer felt that his day had been made a bit better just by being around the tiny man for even a few moments. His enthusiasm is contagious.
RhodesTer immediately went home and defrosted a lasagna.
Speaking of defrosting, the microwave blew up the other night, right in the middle of defrosting coffeesister’s dinner, so she’s been subsisting on cheese and crackers.
RhodesTer eats at the hotel while on shift, because he’s a big shot there and has the run of the kitchen. The oven in the RhodesTer household makes too much smoke to be useful.. it sets off the smoke alarm EVERY TIME, causing the neighborhood dogs to howl. RhodesTer was given a new microwave oven by a hotel valet, but it hasn’t been delivered yet.
CHEEEEEESE ANDDDD CRAAAAACKERSSSSSSS
THANK GOD the lesbians are all going home today – they kept RhodesTer running on Saturday night and, as fond as he is of the delightful young ladies, he won’t miss them one itty bitty bit.
He almost had to evict a few of them, which would have been very sad, but they quieted down and behaved themselves by the time the cops showed up, so they got to enjoy breakfast in bed after all.
Lucky lesbians!
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I’m stuck on nights – that’s all there is for my position. I’d have to get a different job here, and since I can’t cook, count, make a bed or pour coffee, I guess I’m SOL.
I’m liking this feature, although it left me as enervated as watching “Run, Lola, Run”
I’m glad you like the feature, but I’m too lazy to look up the word “enervated”.